Birmingham State Herald

the man to question Bob's faith, and I don't think you ought to do it, either.

Bob is a pure Albino, and all he needs to be the peer of republicanism is a hide as black as his politics: Of course Bob is genial and clever, and he is bound to be. For if his manners were as vile and vicious as his politics he would be persecuted from the face of the earth, even as the poor skunk is.

We appreciate Cuba Grey very highly, because she is so loyal to the south and writes so splendidly in defense of her people; but we are after licking the republicans, and ventilating war memories is just what suits them, so I ask Cuba Grey to let up on the war and let us go gunning for gold bugs and make them confess to free silver or get out in the cold.

Cuba Grey need pay no attention to that weak salutation of a critic, Ben Adhem, for he would rather be caught in a yarn than not to be noticed at all. She didn't say anything wrong about Talmage and that scribbler, Ben Adhem, must have had his ears pulled constantly at school, for they appear quite prominent in his silly strictures on Cuba Grey.

Talmage and Sam Jones both belong to the circus part of the church—Sam being the clown and Talmage the fellow that sails through the balloons. They are both smart fellows, but in different ways. Sam grovels and Talmage soars.

Sam calls plain folks fools, liars and skunks, while Talmage pictures to the gold-bugs what lovely angels they will be. Both "get there Eli" on the spot cash basis. Both have many friends and many critics, and both may do some good among people who can believe that such transparent, though brilliant mountebanks are "called of God."

Ben Adhem is no match for Cuba Grey. She out-classes him, and knocked him out in the first round. He forgot about the new woman, and while Cuba Grey may not ride in bloomers on a bicycle, yet her pen has the virility of developed manhood, and such a feather-weight as Ben Adhem is no more to her than a nine pin is to a cannon ball.

You wouldn't catch me criticising her if she had burnt Talmage up in his tabernacle, and I pity the little fibber Ben Adhem, who had the gall to affront such a queen of the quill as Cuba Grey.

I guess Ben is a little jack-leg lawyer, if he ain't he ought to be, for he has all the impudence that characterizes that pestiferous class of human varmints.

There is no use in calling on Ben to lay aside his disguise, for in tackling Cuba Grey he has exhibited his ears.

We can easily diagnose the rest of him.

BARTEMUS.